What makes a better Batman?
by Shauds02
Summary: Jason may not like Tim, but he figures it's kind of hypocritical to tell Batman off for letting kids fight his war when he's not doing anything to stop it. What makes a better Batman, and will the Dark Knight's second protege repeat his greatest mistake? Pre New 52 after Bruce comes back.
1. Chapter 1

It was cold, so cold. His bare toes were numb, a sharp contrast to the rest of his body. Another hit from a peice of hard stone. If he could have moved them he would have clenched his fists to protect his fingers from more harm. How long had he been there? The clanging of a chain, another hit against his exposed, bruised chest.

The red and black kevlar suit hung from him in tatters, offering no protection from either the cold, the blows, or the laughter that would have frozen his blood if it weren't half way there already. He did his best not to make a sound, not to look at the camera set up in the corner.

Not to beg the people watching to hurry up and save him.

Time slipped by both faster and slower than it had any right to. Trying to keep track of hours and days was impossible when the pain and cold glad every second together in an unending nightmare.

The madman was talking, but the boy on the ground couldn't hear him. He wished he could fall into black creeping at the edges of his vision, sleep, die anything but lie there and take the hits.

The sound of the chain again, again an increase in pain. He bit his lower lip broken in his attempts to hold back his cries.

An engine revved, a puff of crystallised air escaped chapped lips before they were hidden behind a red helmet.

' _Not again_ '

If the bat had listened. If the replacement had listened.

' _If I'd killed that thing_ '

But no, nobody had listened. And he'd stupidly tried to convince someone else to do what he should have done the second he'd come to his senses after crawling out of the earth that monster had stuck him in.

 _No more, not one more person. Not even the replacement._

A motorbike tore through the streets of Gotham, the winds of the snow storm drowning out the roar of the engine.


	2. Chapter 2

A large figure sat silhouetted before the huge batcomputer. One showed the progress of the tracking program that was trying to trace the elusive signal of the video being broadcast on another.

He watched both screens closely, taking in every detail like the detective he was while another side of him rebelled and logged to turn away from he brutal footage. Someone had to be watching it at all times, and he would never have wished that duty on any of his children, so the task fell to him while they were sent to investigate leads he knew we're false.

The program tracing the live feed was probably the most advanced in the world, but it wasn't working nearly fast enough. On the screen a masked, dark haired boy lay shivering on damp concrete. Most of the room was shrouded in shadow, but a narrow spot-light on the boy made every mark on his body stand out in sickening high definition.

A mug of steaming coffee was placed before the Dark Knight. The butler didn't get so much as a glance, his master unwilling to tear his eyes from the gruesome sight in screen. He couldn't risk it. All he could do was watch and flinch with every blow that landed on the helpless teen.

He hadn't had to watch with Jason. Hadn't had to witness as the light was extinguished from the eyes of that fierce young boy. Tim was so different, so calm, so carefull. It was so hard to comprehend such a similar end to his life.

Bruce had to watch as his world was shattered again, as another young boy was broken, shattered like his second Robin. Bruce had to watch so he could make it stop before the damage was irreversible.

'I've noticed that you have a new kiddy in the tights, guess you don't need this one anymore ', the Joker's voice had taunted.

"Please don't let me fail this time", he prayed to whoever would hear him.

'...you don't need this one anymore '

Those words cycled through the mind of the young man speeding through the streets of Gotham. He didn't know how the clown had gotten another one of Batmans birds, and right then he was sure he didn't care.

"I'll give you a hint my ass ", he muttered.

It was dumb luck that he'd chosen that day to hack into the computer. At first he'd been surprised to have gotten through so easily. Then he'd seen what was being broadcast.

The image of Red-Robin , bound at the Jokers feet flashed through Jason's mind. He turned up the best as far as far as it would go. No way would he'd let it happen again. Jason would be the first to admit he'd never cared much for his replacement, he himself had snapped and gone too far a few times, but that wasn't about them, it was about making sure the Joker didn't get away with it again.

Jason wouldn't be late, he'd get there, end the Joker and then let the bats know where to find the Red Robin. Not like the old man would take any info he handed over at face value anyway.

No one deserved to be at that mad-mans mercy. No one, not one singal person deserved to have that laughter as the soundtrack of their end.

Red Robin wouldn't die, because Red Hood wouldn't allow it.

Nightwing and Robin zip-tied the last of the unconscious gang members to a bike rack. Nothing. How it was that nobody seemed to know anything the former Batman couldn't fathom. Not one of the Jokers former lackeys had any information they were willing to share. None of the gangsters Red Robin had been out to bust before he'd gone missing would talk either - if they even knew anything.

He didn't scold Robin when he was a little rougher than he had to be with one of the men, and didn't wait to chat with any of the cops that came to cart the criminals off to Black-Gate. His focus was in his other little brother. On the last tip Batman had sent him.

Nightwing and Robin disappeared into the shadows of Gotham.

There had been few gaurds, probably only there to keep away curious passersby. The Joker had been carefull to involve as few people as possible. Now there were no gaurds at all, just filthy corpses staining the fresh snow deep red.

The Red-Hood dissembled his sniper rifle in near silence, tossing the peices into the rucksack hanging on the handle-bars of his bike.

Batman would have knocked the guards out and made a showy entrance through the roof or possibly the wall. Jason killed them and pried open a window in the darkest corner he could find.

No point in being dramatic and giving the clown a chance to escape. Jason had that once before. If things worked as m planned, there's be a bullet in the clown's head before he could say HA.

Jason flinched at the muffled laughter echoing through the building and the thwak of a hard object hitting flesh. Steeling himself, he continued to creep silently towards the sounds. In a few minutea no one would ever have to worry about that laugh again.

He caught a flash of light and turned his helmets night vision off. This was it.

A cautious peek through the door revealed the escalation of the scene he'd viewed on the dim screen of his laptop.

The Joker, blood spattered, laughing and swinging a cinder-block on a chain. Red-Robin wasn't moving, not even to tense up or flinch at the harsh touch of the Jokers weapon. The Joker knelt down beside him, and grabbing a handful of the boys hair he lifted Red Robin's bruised face to the camera.

"Not much longer now Batsy", he said in a sing-songy voice. He was turned towards the camera, the same direction as the doorway Jason hid behind. The vigilante couldn't make his move yet.

The Jokers smile morphed into a frown. "You know this is starting to get repetitive", he elbowed Tim roughly in a mockery of friendliness, " don't you think. You haven't been participating much for the past few minutes. Not nearly as entertaining as the last one." The smile returned, "I'll wrap this up then, what do you say", the Jokers nodded Tims head roughly.

The Joker pulled out a gun. Jason moved.

Tim was still conscious, he could still feel. His hearing was a little fuzzy, but he could pick up the change in his captors voice. He couldn't move at all, couldn't resist when the Joker lifted his head and moved it around.

He heard the click of a gun.

'Is this it? ', he didn't want his family to go through what they had with Jason. 'Sorry everyone'. He didn't want to be the cause of such greif.

He heard shots fired. He sucked in as deep a breath as his injuries would allow.

The Joker was talking again. Tim managed to crack open an eye. There, across the room from him he caught a flash of red. More shots fired. The Joker was no longer besides him.

"Shit", Jason swore. He'd gotten distracted, he'd seen the gun pointed at the replacement's head and he'd panicked. Now the clown knew he was there. The slimey peice of filth was dancing around the room, making it hard for Jason to get a shot in.

His custom pistols didn't need to be reloaded often, but 'not often' and never weren't the same thing . The clown's return fire made it hard to use even that advantage.

Joker shot at something above Jason, it fell almost dropping on top of the young man. A single glance at the object sent I've shoooting through his veins.

A bomb, red numbers counting down from ninety. Two seconds, for only two seconds he froze. Giving the Joker an opening to knock him in front of the camera and hit him over the head with the cinder-block.

With a cry of, 'Two for one", the Joker was out of the had disappeared into the shadowy corridors.

Jason rose to follow, ignoring the blood dribbling down his neck. The soft groan and splatters of blood all over the floor was a little harder to ignore. He chose quickly, before he could even register that there was a choice to be made. He was running as fast as he could out of the building, the younger boy draped over his back.


	3. Chapter 3

Nothing.

They'd spent the past week practically tearing the city apart and still they hadn't found even the slightest hint of where either of the reds had gone off to. The Joker had been suspiciously silent the whole time too.

Nightwing shuddered; he could still feel the smoke stinging his throat as he had frantically searched the ruins of the buildings that had been destroyed to cover the jokers escape.

It had taken so long even with the help of Gothams very experienced emergency services. Six shoddy buildings had been reduced to rubble, only seconds apart. Without being able to determine the exact lag of the video it had been impossible to know which to search.

The tension had tired him out faster than anything. Lifting each piece of rubble becoming almost too much when he was gripped with the fear that the next one would reveal the broken bodies of not one, but two of his little brothers. Just when they'd arrived at the last location Batman had been called in. Oracle had spotted the Red-Hood tearing through the city streets ob a traffic camera.

He couldn't count how many times he'd watched that clip now. Even with the poor quality the curled form of Red-Robin could be seen on the front of the motorcycle. Just a few seconds long, but those seconds of the two of them alive had almost made Nightwing cry with relief. For three days it was all he could think about. Red-Robin wasn't in The Jokers hands anymore, he was safe, Tim was safe. All Dick had to do now was wait for him to come home.

It had been Robin that had dispelled that notion. The boy had been pacing the cave while Nightwing was watching the clip yet again. The commissioner had lit the bat-signal and Alfred was busy in the house. Nightwing and Robin were alone.

"How are you sitting there?" Robin had said. "Red-Robin is in the hands of that murderer and you are watching his abduction grinning like an imbecile."

"What?" Nightwing had turned to face him.

"Little D, we're doing everything we can right now, we'll head out again on a couple of minutes, even we need a…"

"Do not say rest, Grayson." Robin had snapped, flinging his hands out as if to push away something he found disgusting. "We are not doing all we can. When we had been searching for The Joker that could have been said. Now you are dragging us around, making almost no progress. It's as though you expect…" His face had scrunched up the way it did when he was trying to solve a particularly challenging equation before shifting to something Nightwing couldn't place, then morphing into scathing anger. "You expect him to be returned willingly, is that true?"

Nightwing had expected that, and had said as much to his youngest brother, almost prompting the boy to run off and search by himself. It had taken almost an hour to calm the most recent Robin enough for conversation after that.

"I have come to expect some level of intelligence from you." Robin had said sullenly. He his eyes had the same intensity as his fathers when he looked at his adopted brother. "Do you not recall what happened the last time Drake was alone with that vagrant? At least with The Joker he had a small chance of survival."

Nightwing thought on those words as he readied for his next patrol, and the rest of the weeks early patrols too. He wanted to hope for his brothers, wanted to believe none of them were pat redemption. But he couldn't take the chances, not with Tim's life. It was Jason himself who'd claimed to be past redemption.

Nightwing didn't want to believe it, but he would do anything to protect his little brothers. Even if he had to protect them from each other

Okay, if the kid didn't wake up then the bats were going to need all there meta friends to protect them from what Jason would stir up.

He'd warned them, tried this best to dissuade Tim from continuing when he'd just started out. Now he had a possibly dying kid taking up space in his safe-house's bed. Even looking at the former Robin was hard. The replacement looked so much smaller than he should have. His face constantly twisted into a pained grimace, not a trace of the stern confidence Jason had gotten used to seeing there.

It was messed up. When last had he seen the kid out of costume? Had he always been that small? Even when Jason had, when he'd…

He carefully stuck the fresh bandage in place.

The race from the warehouse had wrecked his nerves more than anything had in a while. It hadn't even occurred to him to take the boy to a hospital. He'd made instead for the safest place he could think of, his most secure safe-house, the one he barely used. After his passenger had nearly fallen of the bike at least three times on the ride Jason was shaking as he'd set up his medical equipment.

When he'd relaxed enough to think properly he'd been too afraid to move the kid, he wasn't in critical condition, but that didn't mean Jason wanted to risk putting him there. Once he'd taken the time to think, Jason decided that he wouldn't be hanging the kid over just try.

Jason hadn't gone through all of that just to have the kid out on the streets and hurt again in no time at all. Letting The Joker go hadn't been meaningless. The maniac was still free even now, it had been a week and the bats hadn't caught him. The Red Hood had been laying low, because the idiots were trying to find him before they found the clown. That mad man was running around, but Nightwing and Robin focused in finding Jason? Batman was at least making an effort, maybe he just didn't want the rest of his little soldiers involved?

It didn't matter, a break wouldn't do more harm than Jason could fix with a little effort. If the kid would just wake up so he could plan his next move. If it came down to it, he's have to save his strength for getting hold of a doctor he could keep quiet.

Jason groaned and knocked his head against the window, thinking about how much easier everything would have been if Tim Drake weren't so well known.


	4. Chapter 4

Seven years, it had taken seven years of work to get to where he was.

Time that could have been spent on other things. Watching his siblings come an go from party's and clubs, listening to their stories of nights out that they hardly remembered. All the while he'd sat in his room studying, staying with his parents well past the time they'd all moved out. How smug he'd felt, him the smart one , the one who'd make something of himself one day, not like those idiots who were wasting their lives.

The young doctor sat at his desk, his desk in his office. He'd felt something that could have been pride when he'd first set up. What did it matte that no one would hire such an inexperienced doctor right off the bat, he'd start up his own office, no reason to work at that understaffed, filthy hospital. He was a genius, everyone had known it, even those teachers who deliberately gave him a harder time because of it.

To bad for him the only place he could get his own office was in this filthy crime ridden city that would have done anything for people that weren't high school drop outs. He'd heard there was a free clinic elsewhere in the city, and with the amount of medicine that had disappeared in the last week he .was starting to feel like he was running one too.

Wouldn't that just make his parents the proudest, their son the philanthropist - he let out a disgusted snort.

On a little desk in the corner of his tidy office a coffee machine beeped. The doctor got up to pour himself some and sank back into his chair with a greatfull sigh. It was only for a few years after all, it couldn't possibly be worse than medical school.

He swore when a loud thumping startled him into spilling hot coffee over his clean shirt. Just his luck that in this city of idiots no one could read a 'closed' sign. He glared out his open office door at the locked one that was just visible. The frantic knocking continued and he resolved to ignore it. They'd go away eventually.

The doctor sipped on his coffee and wondered why he didn't go to law school instead, then remembered that being a lawyer involved dealing even more with people that being a doctor did. The knocking stopped and he placed the empty mug aside to finish off his paper work.

Water dripped onto the pages and he groaned, now he had a leaking ceiling as well, perfect. He lifted the mug again and made to go back to the coffee machine only to find that corner of his office occupied, and some thug in a leather jacket pouring himself a mug.

"Wonderful." The doctor bemusedly reached for the button that would call security.

"Uh uh." The man waved one finger and it was too easy to tell he was grinning under that helmet. "Wouldn't do that."

The doctor crossed his arms and sighed at the gun that was shoved in front of his face. "This is the third time." He groaned. "Will I survive it?"

The other man just laughed and shoved a bag over the doctors head. "Doc, you do what I say an' you won't have problems here for a long time."

That was only mildly reassuring.

Jason tucked his hood under his arm have his safe house a quick look over before taking the bag off the doctors head. "And there was light." He said with a smirk.

The doctors eyes wandered around the small apartment, lingering for a few minutes on each of the weapons Jason had purposely left laying around. He straitened his stained shirt and raked a hand through his damp blonde hair before turning to the vigilante and adjusting his glasses.

"I don't suppose your friend has a cold." Doc said.

Jason snorted and led him to the room where the replacement was tucked nice and cozy in his bed, walking carefully so he didn't limp. It wasn't him that needed a doctor. Kid had better be damn appreciative of all the effort it had taken to keep him alive.

The doctor looked the kid over without so much as a frown on his expressionless face, guy was probably a blast at parties.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Doc asked.

"Lot of crazies in this city." Jason said. "Should've figured that for yourself by now."

The look the doctor shot him let Jason know that he'd figured if he hadn't know already, he did now.

"More specifically, it would help if you told me what exactly the crazy did. I'll also need supplies that someone like you would have a hard time getting hold of." The doctor said.

"Yeah whatever, give me a list and I'll get on it."

Two days later Jason dropped what had probably been the most disagreeable, non-homicidal doctor in the world back at his little doctor's office. He also had a little talk with some of the gang leaders in the area about keeping their members away from said doctors office, probably doing them a favour too. He almost felt sorry for anyone who tried to steal from the place.

Back home the kid was sleeping peacefully as anyone. Jason gave him a quick look over to make sure there was no sign of infection cropping up. Bringing back that doctor was something he wanted to prevent at all costs, all that coffee had been expensive.

Satisfied that his coffee was safe for the time being, Jason went back to his small living room and opened up a window, the apartment was stuffy after being closed off for so long. He flopped onto his lumpy sofa and clicked in the TV for some background noise while he slept. The scum in the streets would 'forget' some of his rules if he didn't show up to remind them.

He also needed more money, asshole doctor...

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck" Jason groaned and reloaded. The first time he goes out in weeks and they find him out in the first few hours.

Talia's little joy flipped onto the roof and got a bullet to his chest, knocking him into Goldie's waiting arms.

Nigtwing shot Red Hood a look that promised pain, or would have if anyone in this family could do anything right. Hood aimed a few shots at his predecessor's legs for the effort though.

Nightwing dodged and set the little Robin down behind a block of concrete, then came at the Hood with a vengeance.

Jason didn't have time to be dealing with Batman's little stooges, he needed to get back in case his houseguest woke up and set off one of the traps scattered around the apartment.

"Don't you have something else you should be doing?" Jason said. His guns were empty now, no chance to reload.

He had only a moment to dodge the powerful kick Nightwing sent his way.

"What did you do to him Hood?" Nightwing asked almost hitting Hood with an escrima stick. He could feel the tingle of electricity in his skin, he knew that would have hurt, how high had Nightwing tuned up he voltage on those things?

"You'll have to be more specific, I've been busy these few days. Shouldn't you be too? Last I checked there was a homicidal circus-freak runnin' round." Hood caught a battarang just before it would have embedded itself in his body armor. "I didn't mean you, brat, but shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Todd I will not..." Robin began.

"Quiet Robin, let me handle this." Nightwing said holding up a hand.

To Hood's surprise the kid growled but stayed put, giving him time to reload.

Nightwing moved closer to the other vigilante and and a volley of shots fired at him. He dodged all but one, which grazed his thigh.

Hood leaped for the next building, landing awkwardly on a patch of gravel, what was that even doing on the roof? Normally he would have been able to recover from that pretty quick, but the fall aggravated his bruised ribs, he let out a surprised cry and fought against the instinctual urge to put pressure on the wound.

Before he could move he got a kick in the chest courtesy of Nightwing. Even Goldie heard the crack that followed. It was all Jason could do to keep standing upright. Crap, he'd known going out would be a bad idea. He fired a few shots and backed up, one hand gripping his ribs.

Shaking off the fog dragging itself over his mind. Nightwing was calling up Batman.

"Call him in and you'll never see little Timmy again." Jason said, carefully raising his gun again.

"Tell me where he is and I won't." Nightwing said.

"You think Ima just hand the kid back to you so you can put him in that things path again?" Hood said. "Not on your life Goldie."

"Jason just..." Nightwing stepped forward, hands raised non threateningly.

"Don't." Jason fired off a warning shot, stopping the hero in his tracks. "When I know that clown isn't gonna swoop in with a bomb and finish the kid off you can have the him back, not a minute before."

"So he's alive?" Nightwing looked pathetically hopeful right then.

"For now." Jason said. "If I can help it he'll stay that way. After what that filth did I can't promise my replacement will stay that way."

"Does he need anything?" Nightwing asked. "God, Jason does he need a hospital?"

"I took care if it." Jason said. He heard a thrumming in the distance, the batplane, ofcourse they'd tried to distract him long enough for it to get there. He emptied the last of his bullets into Nightwing's kevlar protected chest. " Shoulda known I couldn't trust you to keep quiet." He said throwing a smoke grenade mixed with a strong sedative. "Better catch that clown Dickie-Bird. Maybe you'll see your 'little brother' before he's gone."

Like hell he'd trust the bats with the kid, couldn't even trust them to keep their mouths shut. He moved quickly to get away before Batman was done fussing over his golden boy and his brat.


	5. Chapter 5

Jason most certainly did not glare at the brightly coloured array of fruits and vegetables in front of him. Healthy food, the doctor had told him. Had to feed the kid something healthy, and no the plethora of vitamins Jason swallowed down with his pizza wasn't the same. Seeing as how the vitamins kept Jason as healthy as he'd ever been eating Alfred's health food at the manor, he was tempted to ignore the advice.

He thought of the kid laying pale and week in his safe house. Not having to sift through rotten vegetables for something that wouldn't circle back round o being alive wasn't worth the risk. The Red Hood shifted his cap and shopping basket then went to work. All he had to do was find enough to make some soup, it just had to be edible, not like he was gonna eat it himself.

Once he'd salvage enough from the only store close enough to risk the trip he moved over to the checkout. As he stood behind some guy that was acting way to skittish Jason turned his attention to the little muted TV in the corner, really hoping the guy wouldn't try anything. After his fight with Dick and his little demon all jason wanted to do was swallow a bottle of pain pills and fall asleep on his couch. He wouldn't have ten able to enjoy any kind of work.

Even with no sound on the TV he could read lips well enough to know what the pretty news reporter was saying.

Batman and Robin had apprehended The Joker, and this time before he'd been able to start anything else. Not that it meant he hadn't gotten to anyone unlucky enough to come across him. Jason frowned down at the basket of vegetables in his hand and wondered if he should bother getting them.

He turned the same time the punk in front if him pulled out a gun. Jason groaned and grabbed the gun out of the guys hand, pistol whipped him, then pocketed the weapon. As the guy crumpled to the dirty floor Jason looked back up at the TV. He froze.

As he watched, The Joker made a run for it, one of the man that had been guarding him was on the ground with a red stain blossoming across his chest. Guns fired and The Joker went down, laughing all the while.

For a moment Jason though that someone had finally thought to out the clown down, but The Jokers body shook with laughter even as his straitjacket was tightened and he was dragged inside.

"Tranq darts." Jason said in disgust. He slammed his basket on the counter, feeling only a little amused at startling the clerk. "Paper."

Hr made his way back to the safe house accompanied by the sound of police sirens in the distance.

The first thing he did when he walked through the door was give the kid his next dose dose on antibiotics. Tim groaned, turning away a bit. Jason bent over to brush aside some of the dark hairs plastered to the kids forehead and let out a soft chuckle.

Yeah, the kid would probably make a beeline for the shower as soon as he woke up., he was probably a little neat freak. Jason's replacement was already showing signs that he'd be waking up soon. It was thankfully past the point that Jason was worried the kid would die in his sleep at least. At the rate he was going the kid would probably be in running along rooftops again within a month even without being fully healed. He was a strong one.

Jason had been strong too when he'd been Robin, physically even more so than the kid despite his smaller size. The Joker hadn't had any problems taking him out either.

If he'd been able to make his way back to Bruce after he'd crawled out of his own grave he ha no doubt The Joker would have out every effort into getting hold of him first chance he got. Jason moved to put the food away and placed a hand over his ribs. Even with all his extra training The Joker had still gotten the drop on him again. He'd called Bruce a hypocrite, but how much more of one was he himself, sending the kid back when he knew what would happen?

He stopped putting vegetables away and began chopping them up instead. Just being alive made the kid a special target. As soon as The Joker got out - and he would get out - and heard that Red Robin was still sprinting across the Gotham skyline there was no question as to where he'd and up again.

Imagining The Jokers head under his knife made short work of the vegetables. Jason was left to work off the rest of his pent up energy checking over his equipment while he watched the news, wishing he could go out and shoot something instead.

He had a lot of work to do.

Tim was very confused, the kind of confusion that came with being hit over the head really hard, then being drugged into oblivion.

He was laying on a soft bed, but was too sticky and stiff to be comfortable, he could tell he'd been laying there for a while.

Opening his eyed and trying to drag the cottony feeling into a little corner of his mind he took in his surroundings. This wasn't the hospital, or any room he'd ever been on before. The only furnishings were the bed, a huge closet and a tiny little table next to the bed with a glass of water on it. That wasn't counting all the medical equipment squeezed into he tiny space.

He followed the rube of the IV stuck in his arm. Morphine. Groggily sitting up he removed the needle. One of his hands was half covered by a cast on his wrist, he scrubbed the other over his numb face and through his greasy hair. Yeah, he felt pretty gross. Waking up in an unfamiliar room was uncomfortable, but nothing new, the missing mask was still an unwelcome surprise. He wasn't restrained in any way, and the door was cracked open enough that he could see a bathroom just across.

He didn't trust the glass of water next to him, so he stumbled over to the bathrooms sink, letting the water run for a bit before taking a drink and splashing some on his face. Looking up he saw a face so bruised it almost didn't look like him staring back. It didn't take much to remember what had happened to make his body ache the way it was even through the morphine.

The Jokers face popped up and Tim shuddered, he'd almost been another suit in the Batcave. It would have been nice to think that Dick and Bruce had rescued him, but he knew all their safe houses.

Despite his body's painful protesting he began dragging himself in the direction of the news report he could hear down the short hall, using the wall for support.

There was no decoration of any kind on the walls, nothing to give him an idea on what course to take. The little he remembered about the end of his time with The Joker didn't really make sense.

He'd meant to just peak around the corner, but his leg gave out and he tumbled to the ground, instinctively trying to catch himself on his definitely broken wrist. Pain shot all the way up to his shoulders, worse it made him cry out right as he landed right at the feet of a surprised looking Jason Todd holding a gun.

Jason stood and Tim tried to scramble back from the huge, threatening figure. The Red Hood opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it and turned around to gather up the weapons littering the area around the couch. When everything pointy and explosive was inside a nondescript duffle bag Jason turned back to Tim.

"Relax kid, if I were gonna hurt you you wouldn't be here right now." Tim flinched when Jason cake closer, but his predecessor just helped Tim to his feet and guided the boy to the sofa. "You hungry?" Jason asked, setting the TV remote in Tim's uninjured hand.

Tim, too dumbfounded to do anything else just squeezed the remote, glad to have something solid solid in his hand.

Jason shrugged and disappeared through another hallway, coming back a few minutes later with a bowl in one hand and a saucer in the other. He set both down next to Tim, then backed away.

"Eat that, right." Jason said.

Tim hurriedly nodded and pulled the food into his lap, soup and crackers. Jason smirked and gave a little mid when Tim began nibbling on a cracker, then went back the way Tim had come in.

The food cleared a enough of the fogginess in Tim's mind that he knew it was probably drugged, but he didn't want to antagonize Jason by refusing to eat. At least it tasted okay.

He hears clinking metal, then Jason walked past and left the apartment through a door just across from the sofa, shooting Tim a quick glance over his shoulder on his way out.

When he was reasonably sure Jason wasn't about to barge back in he pulled himself up from the sofa and looked for an escape route. Unsurprisingly the windows and front door were all locked, so were all the cupboards, and with locks Tim had neither the tools more dexterity to open. The only price of Technology aside from the stove was the TV and he knew he wouldn't be able to turn into anything he could use to send out a signal with before Jason came back in.

Tim sank back into the sofa and desperately flipped though the news channels, almst getting dizzy with relief when he found that The Joker was locked back in Arkham.

It took a few minutes for the adrenaline to wear off, but when it did fatigue crashed into him like The Jokers... the batmobile, it crashed into him like the batmobile.

Deciding the harm was already done, Tim finished off the soup and began absentmindedly flipping through TV channels. It took hours for him to fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The Batcave was always cold and dark, but he past month had made it seem even more so. Lingering tension from from Tim's imprisonment and the mad search for The Joker had settled around the damp place like a suffocating cloud.

Bruce, Dick, Alfred, they all trudged through the cloud as best they could. They hadn't heard from Barbara in days. Hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Red Hood since their confrontation on the rooftop. High as anticipation for Tim's return had been since they'd put The Joker away, now there wasn't much they wouldn't have done for any sign that they'd ever see the middle child again.

It was Dick who voiced the thought first. While Damian was destroying the training equipment and Alfred was dusting Jason's memorial case.

"What if he meant we had to kill The Joker?" Dick said.

Alfred's posture stiffened and Damian finally managed to crack the sturdy wooden training dummy.

"He did say he would release Drake when he was sure the Joker wouldn't be a problem." Damian said, the boy directed a few more strikes at the dummy, widening the crack. "I could handle such a mission in an hour with the proper..."

"No Dami." Dick said. "What I mean is that, if we could get Jason to believe that Joker won't be coming back he might slip out of hiding."

"And what of Drake while you come up with your diversion?" Damian said. "Todd is an imbecile, but he will not be fooled easily on this. It's likely he will get impatient and decide that Drake is no longer a valuable bargaining chip."

"Nightwing pushed down the tight feeling in his chest and carried on. " We have friends that can help us. Alfred," he turned to the butler, "call he league and we can..."

"That won't be necessary." Bruce said, pulling up his cowl as he made his way down the stairs.

"Bruce, after all this would it really..." Dick began.

"Anyone we could have gotten for something like that is otherwise engaged." Bruce said in a tone that implied he'd checked. she walked up to the bat computer and began tapping at the keys. "We have intel that Black Mask is picking up a valuable shipment at he docks tonight." Bruce brought up a map and marked the location.

"We're focusing on this now? Really?" Nightwing said, crossing his arms. "We have other people we can ask to deal with this."

Damian walked up to stand besides his father and looked at the screen contemplatively. The boys frown slipped and became an almost smile. "There will be almost a million dollars worth of cargo at this exchange."

Nightwing was about to interject when Robin continued.

"It is unlikely Todd will pass up an opportunity such as this, correct Father?" the boy said.

Batman gave his son a curt nod that was softened somewhat by the Dark Knight's own almost smile. "Suit up both of you. We'll need at least two hours for prep."

Nightwing didn't reprimand Robin for the two vicious kicks the boy directed at Black Mask's chest. Batman just frowned a little more.

"What? With the way ya go through em who woulda though you'd be so touchy." Black Masks voice had too much mirth in it for someone in his position.

It wasn't like he could get more caught than he already was, and since that new gun toting bastard had come to town he hadn't had many chances to antagonise the bat himself. The last time he'd gotten any reaction from the Dark Knight had been when he'd gotten to that girl Robin. Even then Batman had just brought back the old one. Still couldn't say it hadn't been worth he effort though.

He was knocked to the ground by an uppercut to the jaw before he realised he shouldn't have said that out loud. Touchy tonight, and the little bird had a hell of a temper.

Jokers gotten another one, huh. Guess I'll have to even the score with that one." Black Mask tried to pull himself up from where he'd fallen, not easy when the bastards had zip tied his arms behind his back. Aside from shooting a look at the fuming Robin there was no sign that any of the bats even heard him.

"Or would I have to take out two? There were rumours the hood was one of your's." He tilted had s head. "Nah, couldn't be. Am I glad I don't have that bastard breathing down my neck anymore. Heard he got caught up in that explosion and you bats finished him off a couple weeks later. Just for that I'll hold off on doing anything to the little bird. Seeing as how no ones seen the Hood in..."

Before he saw what hit him Roman Siones was waking up in the prison medical ward.

Tim watched the news reporter talk on about how Black Mask and some of his men had been found at the Docks after an anonymous tip. Like that could have been anyone other than Batman. It relieved Tim that they were still looking after the city.

Jason scoffed, turning Tim's attention to the man who leaned against the wall as far from Tim as he could get while still being able to see the TV. Jason saw Tim looking at him and took a sip of his beer while turning back to news.

"Hey Jason." Tim said, hating the way his voice cracked.

Jason tensed up for a second before returning to his relaxed slouch. "What is it kid?"

"Why am I here?" The boy curled in on himself as he said it.

"Doctor said you'd do better with stimulation or some shit, TV's all I got." Jason shrugged.

"No, I mean I'm grateful, but." Tim fiddled with the hem of his too big shirt, but kept his eyes trained on Jason. "Why am I here, at all?"

Jason brought his bottle to his lips again before he answered. "Didn't think it'd be safe to move you. I'm not gonna hurt you, kid. Saving you cost me the Joker, so I'm just making sure it was worth it."

What could Tim do to fix that? Did Jason. want him to do it himself. Or being Jason did he just want to mess with the others by making them waste time looking for Tim.

"How long?" Tim asked, taking a sip of the cold tea next the the sofa to sooth his suddenly dry throat.

"Till I say so." Jason pushed off from the wall and walked past the TV to go into the kitchen. Tim heard the fridge open and close.

"You can't just keep me here forever." Tim said, he knew he wouldn't like anything Jason asked him to do, and that his predecessor wouldn't let him go until he got what he wanted. "Someone will find out where we are and come for me. Can't you just let me go?"

"Forever?" Jason reentered the living room. "Psh, like I'd put myself through that." He said with an easy smile that Tim could tell right away was fake. "Just a few months okay. Can't trust you not to swing around in that broken wrist." Jason out another bowl of soup on Tim's lap.

Tim's good hand clamped around his dully throbbing wrist. "But I have school." He cradled the warm bowl against his chest. "And the Titans. Jason I can't just be gone for months."

"I'll get you some books." Jason said. "And I'm sure your super powered friends can handle themselves for a while."

"What do you think you'll get out of all this?" Tim asked, pushing down his own frustration. Not knowing was almost worse than Jason's temper. Tim regretted that thought when the man's expression hardened.

"Don't push it kid." Jason said, stepping out of the apartment. "And eat your soup.

Tim watched him go, and couldn't help but worry that Jason would snap and finish off what the Joker had started if Tim didn't get out soon. It wasn't like Hood hadn't gotten close before. Another part of the boy fought not to call Jason back in case the Joker was waiting outside the door.

Jason frowned at the old man in the bookshop that was staring at him. What kind of books would the little genius Tim even find interesting? The kid was getting restless, and Jason knew he'd make a break for it soon.

There was no possibility of keeping the kid hidden from the bats in their own city, but Jason didn't have the funds to move them. His ribs still protested when he move wrong, so ant bid busts were out of the question. Getting Siones would have gotten enough cash to move Tim somewhere well hidden and Jason could have taken it from there.

He was glad he'd decided against that.

That old man was still staring at him. Jason dumped some random college books into his basket and headed for the checkout. Then old man came up to Jason and asked what courses he was taking. It was almost time to make sure Tim took his antibiotics, kid probably thought they were drugged too.


	7. Chapter 7

Gotham was a city as easy to love as it was to hate. Over the years many people had referred to it as the greatest city in the world and Jason was inclined to agree. It was home to obscene pockets of wealth, amazing tourist attractions, and produced some of the most brilliant minds the world would ever know.

Sounded great to any outsider, but Gotham was great on the flip side of the coin as well. There were areas so poor it was like being in a third world country and crime rates so high trying to climb over them would likely take you past the ruins of Krypton.

It was this dichotomy of rich and poor that created the most twisted, insane monsters that the human mind could conjure up and some that it couldn't.

One thing was for sure, it wasn't the kind of city you took something you wanted protected, and Jason prided himself on never doing things by half.

The news droned on in the background while he cleaned the grit out of the rifle he'd used the night he'd gotten the kid away from the Joker. He had a few teachers who'd have killed him for leaving the care of his weapon for so long, if any of them were alive that was. Watching over a near dead kid was as good a reason for negligence as he'd ever had. But now that he was reasonably sure the kid wouldn't keel over any time soon, there was a lot of work to catch up on.

"Joker's on the news." The kid said from where he was nestled on the sofa in front of the TV.

"Always is." Jason grunted, reaching back to dip his rag in the cleaning oil on the kitchen counter he was leaning against. That soon after a breakout it was more of a surprise when the media and straw psychologists weren't making the local news a circus.

"What are you going to do if he breaks out again?" The kid kept his eyes on the screen as he said it, but the comment suddenly got him Jason's full attention.

"I'll deal with it." Jason set his cleaning supplies aside and put away the equipment he wouldn't be using.

He got made a quick circuit if his safe house, checking that everything was secure twice over before he got his gear together. On his way out he paused at the door meaning to say something that he forgot in the time it took him to open his mouth. The kid caught the motion and cocked is head, waiting.

"Don't forget to take your meds." Jason left, putting the apartment on lockdown. Satisfied that nothing would get in or out he let his mind focus entirely on his work.

Sionis, the colossal pain in the ass that he was had gotten it into his head that the Red Hood was out of commission, that it was the bats who'd taken him out no less. That had messed with Jason's plan in all kinds of ways. Speed was key to getting things back on track, and there were only two things that sped things up in Gotham; money and fear.

Normally both came easy, but no one was scared of a dead guy. Keeping his head low hadn't done much to quell those rumors, so Jason was going to spend all night doing what he did best; putting scumbags in their places. Judging by his monitoring of the police scanners the past week, many of those places would be six feet under.

.

.

.

The night air wasn't crisp, or fresh by any means, not in that part of Gotham, but he still regretted not being able to breathe it in properly through his helmet as he slunk through the shadows to is next target.

Frank Roux had been a small time crook, the smallest of small time crooks at that. He'd just been getting started clawing his way up the criminal hierarchy the first time the new Red Hood had appeared. Needless to say, Jason's methods had made an impression and Frank hadn't tried terribly hard after that, it didn't make him a decent person though, just a coward who was a little smarter than the other cowards.

Decent people didn't dive into the drug business first chance they got and start lacing their product with hallucinogenics.

He lived in park row, half an hour's drive from Jason's current safe house. It was as dim there as some other parts of Gotham were bright, only a few streetlights flickering in the darkness and no one having the money to waste on nightlights while they were sleeping.

Jason was near silent as he pried open the latched window and slipped into the apartment. It was messy, grunge having seeped into the cracked tiles. He took note of the half-filled cardboard boxes lying around. Frank's product had been popular, earning him enough money to get himself a nicer place and he'd already started moving.

Soft snores filled the air, leading to where the scrawny man slept. The bedroom smelt even worse than the rest of the room, stinking worse of sweat and mold than even some of the places Jason had slept in when he'd been on the street.

Intimidation tactics, as inefficient as they were in the long run, had been Jason's friend in situations like that. Without a word of warning grabbed the front of Frank's ratting shirt and hauled the man out of bed, tossing him onto the cluttered floor.

"What?!" Roux leaped to his feet, ripping open the draw in his nightstand and reaching in for his hidden pistol.

"No need for that Frankie." Jason slammed the drawer shut, the other man's wrist snapping when he didn't move it out fast enough.

"Hood!" He cried, clutching his injured wrist to his chest as he looked up at the imposing figure Jason struck in the dark.

"I thought my rules were clear, you scumbag." Jason picked the man up again, bringing him close enough that he could smell the scent of cheap alcohol even through his helmet. "You know what happens when you break those rules."

"I heard you was dead." Not the smartest thing the guy could have said right then. Jason bashed his helmet against the man's head hard enough to break the skin.

"I look dead to you?" He drew back his fist and added a shiner to the trail of blood dripping off Roux's head.

"No, no, course not!" The man blubbered around the snot and tears running down to his mouth. "I didn't mean no harm, just added…"

"Something that made someone's mother dive off a bridge after buried treasure." Jason really wasn't in the mood to hear whatever story the dealer came up with. If he took a chance like that at the first whispers that Red Hood was dead, how much further would he slip when Jason couldn't get to Gotham for months at a time? Lucky for him Roux was the type of person who could be scared straight with a little effort.

"Was the Mask what told me mix it in the dope, I swear I wasn't gonna keep doing it, just till…" Rpux kept talking, but Jason wasn't listening.

There was a soft beeping at his ear. He'd deactivated the silent alarms in all but two of his safe houses, having locked his equipment in his most secure location.

"Shit." Jason swore and dropped the man, disappearing before Roux had even finished his rambling please for mercy.

.

.

.

Jason left the apartment for around six hours every second night, and two hours every three days. Tim took his meds three times a day, and Jason's excursions always took place around the time the boy was hazy from the overly strong pain medication.

Tim wasn't stupid enough to believe Jason wouldn't notice if he didn't take the pills, and Tim didn't want to risk an infection cropping up because he skipped the antibiotics. The food didn't taste of any additional drugs, but there were plenty that were tasteless. Up till then, Tim couldn't just not eat the food Jason provided, drugged or not he needed the strength.

That night, however he gave the cooling bowl longing glance and left it balanced on the shoddy table. He was feeling better than he had since he'd woken up in Jason's locked down safe-house, and with Jason's patrol only just starting, it was might have been the last chance he'd get to escape.

Jason's security was good, but it was obvious the part of it that kept Tim inside had been put up in a hurry and didn't quite fit with the ones that kept other people out. It had been frustrating for a while, staying on the sofa all the time, but in his condition his only other option had been the bedroom, and he couldn't observe the rest of the apartment from there like he could the couch, even if the added privacy would have made working out a plan easier.

From his position he'd watched, Jason's comings and goings, where the man went when he got home. Being injured made it hard for him to get much done in the small windows of time where he knew he wouldn't be found out. Hours of work and still, the best plan he could come up with was leaving one of the text books Jason had brought him near a window.

The lock on that window wasn't anywhere near as complex as the others, and though Tim had a niggling doubt that Jason was unaware of the flaw, he didn't have any other feasible plans.

He stood slowly, careful to keep his weight on his good leg, good being a relative term. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he caught hold of the side table, toppling the bowl sitting on top of the rickety piece of furniture. It dropped to the floor with a loud clink, spilling the soup and soaking my thick socks in the stuff.

There went any chance of changing his mind and eating the soup. By the time he'd hobbled over to the kitchen he was on the verge of changing his mind about taking some of the painkillers.

He got the butter knife he'd stashed under the sink before beginning the arduous task of going all the way back to the other side of the apartment. Every step sent stabs of pain shooting through his body, he told himself he'd had worse and pressed on.

There was a metal grate covering the window, blocking any view of outside. The text book was opened at it's base, the tips of a few pages sticking between the grate and the wall. It would have been easy to miss, especially when the only other person in the apartment was supposed to be too weak to move around.

Tim wedged the knife into the tiny gap created by the pages. It wasn't much, and forcing it in was hell on his splinted hands, but after half an hour he'd wedged his make shift tool firmly under the grate and began to pry it up.

The locks creaked in protest when he exposed them, sweeping his knife between their fragile workings and severing the myriads of thin wires that kept them in place.

By the time he was done sweat was dripping from his neck and he'd looked back at the pain killers on the table more than once. The breath of fresh air he finally pulled into his lungs after what felt like forever made up for the effort in the end.

There was no time to savor his victory yet, he had to get at least a few blocks away before he could begin to believe he'd succeeded. He pulled himself through the window and onto the rusty fire escape with shaking arms, wishing he'd had the forethought to find a pair of shoes when he tucked the butter knife into his wet socks.

' _No time.'_ He looked around the area to get his bearings. The apartment was somewhere in the bowery, his head was still too fuzzy to make out exactly where, and right near the top of the building. Tim's heart sank when he looked down at the stairs he's have to climb down for at least part of the way. He didn't trust his weak limbs to support him on the ladders, and a fall from that height would have killed him.

Taking a deep steadying breath he put one foot in front of the other and tried to focus on only that. He passed by the windows of other apartments, many lit up with the warm glow of TV sets and chattering people. All it would have taken was a few raps on one of those windows, asking someone to call the police and Bruce would have known where to find him right away, but doing that risked putting any innocent civilians in Jason's path.

The alley floor he got down to was covered in sharp pieces of glass that dug into Tim's feet, staining the socks with droplets of red. The boy barely noticed as he stumbled along, using the walls to support himself until he got to the end.

For an area as densely populated as the Bowery, there weren't many cars, but plenty of people crowded the sidewalks. Some gave Tim curious glances, but none tried to talk to him or offer the half-dressed teenager help. It was a common sight, and the people were too tired to care.

In some twisted way, Tim was glad he looked like hell. It was perfect camouflage in an area where Tim Drake would have stood out like Joker in a library. _'Joker.'_ Tim shuddered, wrapping his bare arms around himself in an attempt to warm himself up.

He kept his eyes peeled for a phone booth, or a wandering police officer, Bruce had to have put out some alert by then, and all he had to do was be noticed.

"Hey kid." A gravely voice called out to him from the shadows. Tim pretended not to notice, okay maybe there were some people who would notice him _because_ he was a scrappy looking kid alone in the bad part of town, but those weren't people he wanted noticing him.

He felt more than saw the small group of men stepping in behind him, would have felt them shadowing him from a block away, not that they were trying to be subtle about it. Some of the looks he was getting morphed from concerned to outright hostile when he got to close.

No one wanted to get involves, Tim didn't blame them. It was his job to protect those people, not the other way around.

He was in no shape to fight, or even to run. Hell, just walking was taking all of his energy. There was no flash of blue police uniform, no glimpse of Batman's shadow in the sky. He kept on scanning the streets though, hoping he'd spot a phone booth at the very least, or a traffic camera for Barbara to pick him uo on. He kept hoping right until the hand grabbed hold of his shoulder.

"Hey kid, I was talkin ta you."

Tim was spun around so fast he lost his balance, falling into a puddle of something that definitely didn't smell like water.

"S-sorry." Tim's stutter wasn't completely fake as he looked up at the men. They were all of them at least as tall as Bruce.

"Sorry?" The one who'd spoken first chuckled, putting on a smile that sent ice shooting through the boy's veins. "Not sorry enough Mister Drake."

Okay, so apparently he hadn't been blending in as well as he thought he had. Tim swallowed, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he looked around one last time for some sort of surveillance equipment. The men moved nearer, Tim's hand ghosted towards the butter knife in his sock for all the good it would do him.

In a few seconds it didn't matter, he was hauled off the ground and tossed unceremoniously into the nearest alley. Burning pain shot through the left side of his body, jarring his immediate thoughts from his mind while his weak fingers held on to his useless weapon.


	8. Chapter 8

When he had to choose between going right to the safe house or taking a detour to get a ride, Jason really regretted not taking one with in the first place. If someone had broken in and gotten the kid he'd need to move faster that he could on foot, but if the kid had somehow gotten out on his own, then the extra time to taken to get a motorcycle might have been enough for him to get back to Batman.

In the end, chose to risk the kid being thrown into danger sometime in the future, than being in the hands of someone with enough smarts to get past his security.

Jason grappled to his the dilapidated building containing among other things, his weapon cache and an assembly of vehicles for different purposes. He grabbed some more ammo and while he was there, just in case and swung a leg over one of the faster bikes.

The thought of having to repeat the nerve-wrecking task of rushing the kid through Gotham gave him pause before he set off and his eyes turned instead to the cars. He chose a nondescript SUV and checked which perimeter alarms had been tripped while he waited for his camera footage to download remotely.

Whatever had happened, the perpetrators had been sloppy, setting off every alarm on their way down the fire escape, and a lot of those weren't even very well hidden. And the descent had been slow, very slow. Jason growled under his breath at the confirmation that if he'd gone right to the safe house he might have been on time to stop it.

The first chunk of camera footage loaded up and Jason turned his attention to the screen. He fast forwarded through the kid channel surfing for half an hour after Jason had left on patrol, then get up and hobble over to the kitchen.

Brief irritation flared up at the kid's refusal to stay put, if he'd fallen and re-broken his ankle when there was no one around he could have risked more permanent damage. Then Jason remembered his own inability to keep still when he really should have and decided he'd let it fly. He was just considering getting some crutches when the kid reappeared in the living room with a knife.

Jason thought for maybe a second that the kid might have heard someone braking in and gotten the weapon to defend himself, then the kid made for the window. The footage cut off there, but the intent was clear.

The Red Hood gripped the steering wheel so hard he heard the plastic crumbling under his hands. Leaving that window with only simple security had been a contingency incase he had to move fast, he should have known to put his emergency exit somewhere more well hidden, but there was always the chance the kid would need it when Jason wasn't there.

He'd spent weeks working to build up the funds to make sure just that wouldn't happen, and now it might have all been for nothing. The Bats had all sorts of protocols for things like that and the chances that the kid hadn't contacted them yet were slim to none.

With a grunt he eased up on the gas and took a more leisurely ride back to the Bowery.

'Can get himself killed on the streets for all I care.' Trying to help him had been a bad idea in the first place.

He paid only marginal attention to the road, studying the bright lights of the city as he drove by. Jason let a small smile curl on his lips, since he had the money and his plans were shot, there was no reason he couldn't take a break.

 ** _((LINE BREAK))_**

The room was dark, too dark for Tim to see anything beyond the pale light coming through the small crack under the door. His hands were zip tied behind him, and when he'd tried to break the ties he'd only been rewarded by hard plastic digging into his skin, bloodying his injured wrists.

Barely audible words floating in from just outside the room didn't tell him anything useful other than that there were men guarding the door, so getting out of the ties would be dangerous unless he did it fast and without injuring himself further in the process.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself into a sitting position, taking a few seconds to wait for the blood rush to his head to pass over before he tried to get his bearings.

His hands we're too numb for him to feel out his surroundings, so he kicked out with his socked feet, running them along the crates surrounding him. His toes brushed against something that clattered along the floor with a metallic twang.

His hissed when moving himself towards the object caused his shoulder – definitely dislocated – to bang into something that, judging by the sound, was made out of wood.

"Hear somethin'?" One of the voices got closer, heavy footsteps stomping towards the door.

Tim curled his toes around the metal object and kicked it within reach.

The door swung open and Tim forced his eyes not to close against the sudden brightness so he could study his captors. Not that it helped much, most of their featured were silhouetted by the light at their backs. One of them was quiet clearly part of the group that had caught him in the alley, the dark pink scar marring his face not completely hidden in the shadows.

"Looks like Mister Drake finally woke up." There was a grin in the thug's voice as he approached. "You don't have any complaints about the 'ccommodations, do ya?"

Tim's first instinct was to glare back at them as they surrounded him, or make a quip about the cliché lines they'd quite blatantly ripped off from an action movie. Two of them lifted him roughly off the ground, bringing him level with the other guy's grungy face.

"You's got ta answer when the Boss talks ta ya." One of them wacked Tim behind his head.

"No." Tim bit out, his eye's locked with those of their 'Boss', dark and rimmed with red, a dead giveaway that there had to be something in his system. Most gang leaders didn't sample the products from off the streets, ergo the man staring Tim down wasn't the one in charge.

He would have remembered any major players with defining feature like that scar, even if the man was just a proxy for their true boss. So either they were new to the Gotham scene, or they were just amateurs who'd been lucky enough to recognize Tim Drake wondering around a place he really shouldn't have.

A meaty fist lifted and Tim swore he'd find out exactly who they were when he got out, then it crashed into him and for a second his only thoughts were centered around the stars bursting to life behind his eyes. After few more hits that left Tim's head ringing the man spoke again.

"No?!" The man screamed, getting in close enough that drop's of his spittle landed in the boy's face. Confirming Tim's deduction that that he'd been smoking something recently, but another fist slamming into his cheek kept him from finding out what exactly it had been.

"I don't…" Tim spat out the blood that had dribbled from his nose into his mouth, "…have any complaints about the accommodations."

A confused frown dominated the man's expression, and Tim's frustration with his situation grew. To have been caught by such idiots… So much for him being the smartest of Bruce's protégés. He bet Ras would be laughing his head off if he saw Tim right then.

"Well I don' care 'bout yer complaints." Their 'Boss' said. "I care that ya do what we say."

"How much money do you want?" Tim asked, keeping his head low so the blood would drip more easily to the ground and stop clogging up his airways.

"You think we's stupid?" The man on Tim's left growled. "Soon as yer free you'll go to the cops an give us up."

Tim would have said something about not knowing their faces, but his eye's had adjusted and he could see all three of them clearly. One of them flicked out a knife and Tim's insides churned, figured they'd be smart enough to know that, but too dumb to keep their eventual plans for him a secret.

"Wait!" Tim called out, his voice hoarse. "You are doing this for ransom, right?"

The men traded incredulous looks, as though Tim was the one who had the IQ of a fig tree. "What do you think?" The one with the knife said.

"They'll pay faster if you send them proof of life." Tim did his best to not sound like he was slowing down his speech to be more understandable. "I'll tell them to pay, you can let me call and…"

He was silenced by a harsh backhand that got his ears ringing.

"So they can trace the call?" The Boss demanded. "I know how you's rich people gets the CSI to find yer kids fer ya."

"What about a video then." Tim's eyes were still on the knife while he subtly twisted his hands, cutting his wrists up more and slicking them with blood, just needed a little more friction to free his arms. "If you dropped it off somewhere without them seeing it." The men traded glances again. "Bruce won't pay you a cent if he doesn't have some proof I'm alive."

That got the only spark of understanding he'd seen from them. The Boss nodded and Tim was dropped back to the ground, hearing a snap as he landed on his newly healed fingers.

The door shut and Tim was left alone in the darkness again. He dragged himself over to where he'd tossed the piece of metal earlier. It was too dark again for him to see what it was, but he felt around for it with his swollen hands anyway.

He chuckled when he ran his hands along the object and found it to be the knife he'd used to facilitate his escape from Jason's apartment. It was too blunt to outright cut his ties, but he maneuvered it around to press the dull edge against them anyway.

The voices grew more frantic outside the door, some banging and clashing thrown in as his captors fought. Whatever they decided, Tim knew he didn't have long, maybe he didn't have any time at all. Trying to cut the ties was agony, it rubbed feeling back to his hands, and his grip on the knife kept slipping the more blood coated his hands.

When the ties finally snapped, Tim had to actually pull the ties out from under his flayed skin. He took a second to make sure his lightheadedness wasn't because he'd nicked any important arteries, then satisfied that he wasn't bleeding to death – yet – he got the knife in front of him and tried to get into a position from where he could at least try to defend himself.

The door scraped open again when he'd barely gotten to his knees. A new man, this one a bit on the smallish side and covered in tattoos tried to grab a handful of Tim's hair. The boy ducked under and thrust out with his knife, digging the blunt utensil into the soft spot behind the man's knee cap hard enough that it drew blood.

There was a scream and the man fell over, giving Tim access to his pockets. His hands closed around a much sharper knife, and he used it to slice the legs of the men trying subdue them.

At least a dozen men poured into the room at the sounds of their comrades' surprised screams. Tim's sloppy escape attempt hadn't accounted for so many, and his head felt lighter and lighter by the second. A deafening bang and the smell of gunpowder stopped the escape in it's tracks.

For a moment it was like all sound had been leached from the world, then red blossomed at Tim's shoulder, staining his pale shirt and bringing his attention to the metallic tang of blood in the air.

He never got a look at the shooter before his eye's rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed amidst the four screaming men he'd taken out.

 ** _((LINE BREAK))_**

Jason didn't care much for most of the dives he frequented. He didn't look old enough for anyone to take him seriously at most of them, and going drinking as the Red Hood was a physical impossibility.

There were still some he enjoyed though, places that didn't ask if he didn't tell and left him to brood over his beer in peace. He went to those places for the atmosphere than the alcohol though. That and the little pieces of news he was able to pick up.

He wasn't intentionally picking up information that night though, just watching the comings and goings of the other patrons, he still kept his ears open, just in case.

Talk about the rich and famous of Gotham wasn't exactly new, hearing gossip about which of those rich and famous were involved in unsavory activities was really one of the most popular conversation topics. Jason normally let that talk slide right over his head. If he had someone on his radar, he was going to need a lot more than bar gossip to go on.

So when he heard Tim Drakes name some up in one of those strings he didn't think very much of it, but that group was sitting closer to him than any of the others, so their words carried over more easily than gossip about Bruce Wayne running for mayor.

"Could be, he was laid up in the hospital, that's how Janie's ma got hooked."

"Yeah, and rich kids are always down by crown point buying, not surprised you saw him."

"Tim Drake at crown point?" Jason scoffed over his beer. "Someone with that kinda cash woulda had it delivered."

"Well maybe Daddy Wayne cut him off, don't you ever watched the news?" One of them shot back at him.

"Those kids are always on the news." Jason downed the rest of his beer and ordered another, he wasn't inebriated enough that it would impair his thinking, and it was easier to make people talk when you actually looked like you'd been drinking. "None of it's ever true."

"Yeah, well it is this time. No one's seen the guy for weeks, and all the reporters keep getting is no comments." A girl who looked about ready to topple over slurred.

"Well my Pa seen him in the Bowery. All shaky and in his PJ's, then those meat heads from Bludhaven show up and cart him away." The guy that said it tried to get to his feet, but stood for only a second before dropping back into his seat.

Jason chuckled and drank off half his beer before shoving some bills to the bartender and standing. "Yeah sure, maybe your Pa needs glasses."

"He does." The guy whined taking raising a bottle to his lips. "But Pa saw what he saw."

Jason waited until he was three blocks away from the bar before he let his expression shift. He didn't speed towards the Bowery, that would get him flagged by traffic cameras and he didn't have many cars that hadn't been.

His gear was still in the boot, so he parked a block away from his safe house and brought up the chunks of footage that had kept downloading while he was in the East End.

He watched the kid stumble down the alleyway on the grainy screen, and turn out of sight. At that pace, he wouldn't have gone very far, but if the kid knew about the camera's then the snail's pace could have been a ploy to throw Jason off.

The laptop clicked shut and Jason stepped out of the car, activating it's security before grappling up to the safe house.

There was a compartment under the fridge where he kept a small stash of emergency supplies, including a dozen burner phones. Jason dug out one of the devices and began dialing up the dealers he knew worked the streets the kid could have passed though.

Everyone knew the Red Hood was building up funds, and any newcomer who tried to take such a high profile payday out from under him should have expected some retribution.

Turned out there were lots of dealers who were willing to talk in exchange for a cut of the ransom, and if things went according to Jason's rapidly evolving plan, his money problems would be over very soon.

Tip-offs led him to an old bakery smack between Crown Point and Crime Alley. He'd gotten some extra supplies and changed cars before heading there, including a blanket and a thermos of coffee.

The kid's kidnappers didn't exactly have a reputation for taking care of their hostages. Newcomers who'd fled from the hell that had been Bludhaven since Dick had pissed off the wrong people and gotten the place bombed, they'd been trying to make a name for themselves in Gotham.

'Trying' being the operative word. It was just too bad for them there first big job had gotten them on his radar. He couldn't risk having people who weren't under his control knowing what was going on.

Having time to set up something more elaborate would have been preferable, but he'd make do with what he had.

Jason cut the power and snuck in from one of the dusty, boarded up windows.

He moved silently through the dark space, listening for the sounds locations of the men in the building.

One of the loudest voices was shouting for the other's to check the fuse box, but Jason heard a few screaming about Batman, or checking on the prisoner. Jason smirked when he heard glass breaking, followed by curses and more screaming. As Robin watching crooks jump out of windows had been one of the more entertaining parts of the job.

There was more shouting about the prisoner and finally the men began breaking into groups, some to check around outside or move to the fuse box. The one's who'd been chosen to look in on their hostage complained loudly about the job, making it easier for Jason to follow them.

He stayed out of sight, treading silently behind them as they followed the beams of dim flashlights into a basement. They paused in front of a door to a separate room, trying to be stealthy about opening the door, and Jason retreated to one of the further corners. Only when they'd been inside for a few seconds and he heard a gurgling groan did Jason follow further.

Thwip. Thwip.

Two silenced shots later and the men's bodies fell to the floor. Jason deactivated his night vision and picked up one of their flashlights.

"You know, I had half a mind to leave you here." He said to shivering kid on the ground.

"Hood." The kids watery eyes looked up at Jason and he looked like he was going to try to crawl away before the fight went out of him and he slumped back into the bloody ground again.

"This'll get old real fast kid." Jason shook his head and carefully lifted the kid into his arms, mindful for any new injuries he might have picked up.

The inside of the building had been freezing, but Jason knew that wasn't the only reason the kid was shaking. Jason carried him back out the way he'd come and the few blocks to the car.

The streets weren't as empty as he would have liked, but removing his hood once he'd put some distance between him and the place that went up in smoke minutes later was enough to turn aside most inquiring glances.

Getting the car door open without jostling the kid too much was hard, but Jason judged the lack of pain filled moans to mean he'd suceeded. Then he gently laid him on the back seat and cranked up the heat tucking the blanket around the kid, he felt a tiny bit of relief when he didn't have to look at the blood anymore.

They were halfway to his crime alley safe house before Jason though it was safe enough to pull over. He parked the car in a narrow alley, well hidden from any security cameras before he twisted back in his seat to get a better look at the damage.

The kid was pressed into his seat, shaking just as badly as he'd been when Jason had first found him.

"Come on." Jason sighed and climbed into the back seat, the kid flinched away from him, but Jason ignored it. He pulled the kid up, and hissed when he got a look at his bloody wrists. "This is gonna hurt." He got out his kris, glad for once that he hadn't had a chance to use it yet that night.

"Jason don't." The kid's voice came out in a panicked whisper.

"Longer it's on the worse it'll be." Jason said. "Suck it up." He was as careful as he could be when removing the ties, but he had to pull them out from under a layer of congealed blood and there was no way he could make it painless.

Once they were free, the kid pulled his arms close to his chest and took a few deep, shuddering breaths before sagging limply against the seat.

"That a bullet wound?" Jason asked, eyeing the darker circle of blood at his shoulder.

The kid nodded shakily, bringing one of his wrists to cover the wound protectively. "Don't touch it."

"I'm not gonna try and dig it out of you." Jason rolled his eyes and reached for the thermos that had rolled under a seat. "That and your hands, anything else?"

Another shake of the head. "Are you going to let me go home now?"

"Yeah, you're definitely in shock." He poured some coffee and brought the dark liquid to the kid's lips. "Drink up, it's just to warm you up a little."

When the thermos was empty, Jason tucked the blanket back around the kid.

"You're fucking lucky I found you before they were done calling in their ransom demand." Jason shook his head as he started the car back up and began the drive over to a certain bad tempered doctor's office. "They sent fingers with their notes, fucking bastards."

The kid didn't respond, his head pressed against the tinted glass of the window, that same steely look in his eyes. Jason refused to care that the kid was still set on getting away from him. Hopefully in a few days it wouldn't matter anymore.

 _'I'm gonna have to kidnap another doctor.'_


End file.
